Barry turned out to be better than I was at picking out who was thinking what in a crowd. I was a bit better at hearing nuance and detail, not always easy to pick up in thoughts. But we had some common ground.
We agreed on who the best broadcasters in the room were; that is, our "hearing" was the same. He would point at someone (in this case it was my roommate, Carla) and we would both listen to her thoughts, then rate them on a scale of one to five, five being the loudest, clearest broadcast. Carla was a three. After that agreement, we rated other people, and we found ourselves reacting almost as one over that.
Okay, this was interesting.
Let's try touching, I suggested.
Barry didn't even leer. He was into this, too. Without further ado, he took my hand, and we faced in nearly opposite directions.
The voices came in so clearly, it was like having a full-voice conversation with everyone in the room, all at once. Like pumping up the volume on a DVD, with the treble and bass perfectly balanced. It was elating and terrifying, all at once. Though I was facing away from the reception desk, I clearly heard a woman inquiring about the arrival of the Louisiana vamps. I caught my own image in the brain of the clerk, who was feeling delighted at doing me a bad turn.
Here comes trouble, Barry warned me.
I swung around to see a vampire advancing on me with not a very pleasant expression on her face. She had hot hazel eyes and straight light brown hair, and she was lean and mean.
"Finally, one of the Louisiana party. Are the rest of you in hiding? Tell your bitch whore of a mistress that I'll nail her hide to the wall! She won't get away with murdering my king! I'll see her staked and exposed to the sun on the roof of this hotel!"
I said the first thing that came into my head, unfortunately. "Save the drama for your mama," I told her, just like an eleven-year-old. "And by the way, who the heck are you?"
Of course, this had to be Jennifer Cater. I started to tell her that her king's character had been really substandard, but I liked my head right where it sat on my shoulders, and it wouldn't take much to tip this gal over the edge.
She gave good glare, I'd say that for her.
"I'll drain you dry," she said, harshly. We were attracting a certain amount of attention by then.
"Ooooo," I said, exasperated beyond wisdom. "I'm so scared. Wouldn't the court love to hear you say that? Correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't vampires prevented by – oh, yes – the law from threatening humans with death, or did I just read that wrong?"
"As if I give a snap of my fingers for human law," Jennifer Cater said, but the fire was dying down in her eyes as she realized that the whole lobby was listening to our exchange, including many humans and possibly some vampires who'd love to see her out of the way.
"Sophie-Anne Leclerq will be tried by the laws of our people," Jennifer said as a parting shot. "And she will be found guilty. I'll hold Arkansas, and I'll make it great."
"That'll be a first," I said with some justification. Arkansas, Louisiana, and Mississippi were three poor states huddled together, much to our mutual mortification. We were all grateful for each other, because we got to take turns being at the bottom of almost every list in the United States: poverty level, teen pregnancy, cancer death, illiteracy... We prettymuch rotated the honors.
Jennifer marched off, not wanting to try a comeback. She was determined, and she was vicious, but I thought Sophie-Anne could outmaneuver Jennifer any day. If I were a betting woman, I'd put money on the French nag.
Barry and I gave each other a shrug. Incident over. We joined hands again.
More trouble, Barry said, sounding resigned.
I focused my brain where his was going. I heard a weretiger heading our way in a big, big hurry.
I dropped Barry's hand and turned, my arms out already and my whole face smiling. "Quinn!" I said, and after a moment where he looked very uncertain, Quinn swung me up in his arms.
I hugged him as hard as I could, and he returned the hug so emphatically that my ribs creaked. Then he kissed me, and it took all my strength of character to keep the kiss within social boundaries.
When we parted to breathe, I realized Barry was standing awkwardly a few feet away, not sure what to do.
"Quinn, this is Barry Bellboy," I said, trying not to feel embarrassed. "He's the only other telepath I know. He works for Stan Davis, the King of Texas."
Quinn extended a hand to Barry, who I now realized was standing awkwardly for a reason. We'd transmitted a bit too graphically. I felt a tide of red sweep over my cheeks. The best thing to do was pretend I hadn't noticed, of course, and that's what I did. But I could feel a little smile twitching the corners of my mouth, and Barry looked more amused than angry.
"Good to meet you, Barry," Quinn rumbled.
"You're in charge of the ceremony arrangements?" Barry asked.
"Yep, that's me."
"I've heard of you," Barry said. "The great fighter. You've got quite a rep among the vamps, man."
I cocked my head. Something I wasn't getting here. "Great fighter?" I said.
"I'll tell you about it later," Quinn said, and his mouth set in a hard line.
Barry looked from me to Quinn. His own face did some hardening, and I was surprised to see that much toughness in Barry. "He hasn't told you?" he asked, and then read the answer right from my head. "Hey, man, that's not right," he said to Quinn. "She should know."
Quinn almost snarled. "I'll tell her about it soon."
"Soon?" Quinn's thoughts were full of turmoil and violence. "Like now?"
But at that moment, a woman strode across the lobby toward us. She was one of the most frightening women I'd ever seen, and I've seen some scary women. She was probably five foot eight, with inky black curls that hugged her head, and she was holding a helmet under her arm. It matched her armor. The armor itself, black and lusterless, was very much like a rather tailored baseball catcher's outfit: a chest guard, thigh protectors, and shin guards, with the addition of thick leather braces that strapped around the forearms. She had some heavy boots on, too, and she carried a sword, a gun, and a small crossbow draped about her in appropriate holsters.
I could only gape.
"You are the one they call Quinn?" she asked, coming to a halt a yard away. She had a heavy accent, one I couldn't trace.
"I am," Quinn said. I noticed Quinn didn't seem to be as amazed as I was at the appearance of this lethal being.
"I'm Batanya. You are in charge of special events. Does that include security? I wish to discuss my client's special needs."
"I thought security was your job," Quinn said.
Batanya smiled, and it would really make your blood run cold. "Oh, yes, that's my job. But guarding him would be easier if – "
"I'm not in charge of security," he said. "I'm only in charge of the rituals and procedures."
"All right," she said, her accent making the casual phrase into something serious. "Then whom do I talk to?"
"A guy named Todd Donati. His office is in the staff area behind the registration desk. One of the clerks can show you."
"Excuse me," I said.
"Yes?" She looked down an arrow-straight nose at me. But she didn't look hostile or snooty, just worried.
"I'm Sookie Stackhouse," I said. "Who do you work for, Miss Batanya?"
"The King of Kentucky," she said. "He has brought us here at great expense. So it's a pity there's nothing I can do to keep him from being killed, as things stand now."
"What do you mean?" I was considerably startled and alarmed.
The bodyguard looked like she was willing to give me an earful, but we were interrupted.
"Batanya!" A young vampire was hurrying across the lobby, his crew cut and all-black Goth ensemble looking all the more frivolous when he stood by the formidable woman. "The master says he needs you by his side."
"I am coming," Batanya said. "I know my place. But I had to protest the way the hotel is making my job much harder than it needs to be."
"Complain on your own dime," the youngster said curtly.
Batanya gave him a look I wouldn't have wanted to have earned. Then she bowed to us, each in turn. "Miss Stack-house," she said, extending her hand for me to shake. I hadn't realized hands could be characterized as muscular. "Mr. Quinn." Quinn got the shake, too, while Barry got a nod, since he hadn't introduced himself. "I will call this Todd Donati. Sorry I filled your ears, when this is not your responsibility."
"Wow," I said, watching Batanya stride away. She was wearing pants like liquid leather, and you could see each buttock flex and relax with her movement. It was like an anatomy lesson. She had muscles in her butt.
"What galaxy did she come from?" Barry asked, sounding dazed.
Quinn said, "Not galaxy. Dimension. She's a Britlingen."
We waited for more enlightenment.
"She's a bodyguard, a super-bodyguard," he explained. "Britlingens are the best. You have to be really rich to hire a witch who can bring one over, and the witch has to negotiate the terms with their guild. When the job's over, the witch has to send them back. You can't leave them here. Their laws are different. Way different."
"You're telling me the King of Kentucky paid gobs of money to bring that woman to this... this dimension?" I'd heard plenty of unbelievable things in the past two years, but this topped them all.
"It's a very extreme action. I wonder what he's so afraid of. Kentucky isn't exactly rolling in money."
"Maybe he bet on the right horse," I said, since I had my own royalty to worry about. "And I need to talk to you."
"Babe, I gotta get back to work," Quinn said apologetically. He shot an unfriendly look at Barry. "I know we need to talk. But I've got to line up the jurors for the trial, and I've got to set up a wedding ceremony. Negotiations between the King of Indiana and the King of Mississippi have been concluded, and they want to tie the knot while everyone's here."
"Russell's getting married?" I smiled. I wondered if he'd be the bride or the groom, or a little bit of both.
"Yeah, but don't tell anyone yet. They're announcing it tonight."
"So when are we gonna talk?"
"I'll come to your room when the vamps are in bed for the day. Where are you?"
"I have a roommate." I gave him the room number anyway.
"If she's there, we'll find somewhere else to go," he said, glancing at his watch. "Listen, don't worry; everything's okay."
I wondered what I should be worrying about. I wondered where another dimension was, and how hard it would be to bring over bodyguards from it. I wondered why anyone would go to the expense. Not that Batanya hadn't seemed pretty damn effective; but the extreme effort Kentucky had gone to, that sure seemed to argue extreme fear. Who was after him?
My waist buzzed at me, and I realized I was being summoned back up to the queen's suite. Barry's pager went off, too. We looked at each other.
Back to work, he said, as we went toward the elevator. I'm sorry if I caused trouble between you and Quinn.
You don't mean that.
He glanced at me. He had the grace to look ashamed. I guess I don't. I had a picture built up of how you and me would be, and Quinn kind of intruded on my fantasy life.
Ah... ah.
Don't worry – you don't have to think of something to say. It was one of those fantasies. Now that I'm really with you, I have to adjust.
Ah.
But I shouldn't have let my disappointment make me a jerk.
Ah. Okay. I'm sure Quinn and I can work it out.
So, I kept the fantasy screened from you, huh?
I nodded vigorously.
Well, at least that's something.
I smiled at him. Everyone's got to have a fantasy, I told him. My fantasy is finding out where Kentucky got that money, and who he hired to bring that woman here. Was she not the scariest thing you've ever seen?
No, Barry answered, to my surprise. The scariest thing I've ever seen... well, it wasn't Batanya. And then he locked the communicating door between our brains and threw away the key. Sigebert was opening the door into the queen's suite, and we were back at work.
After Barry and his party left, I kind of waved my hand in the air to let the queen know I had something to say if she wanted to listen. She and Andre had been discussing Stan's motivation in paying the significant visit, and they paused in identical attitudes. It was just weird. Their heads were cocked at the same angle, and with their extreme pallor and stillness, it was like being regarded by works of art carved in marble: Nymph and Satyr at Rest, or something like that.
"You know what Britlingens are?" I asked, stumbling over the unfamiliar word.
The queen nodded. Andre just waited.
"I saw one," I said, and the queen's head jerked.
"Who has gone to the expense to hire a Britlingen?" Andre asked.
I told them the whole story.
The queen looked – well, it was hard to say how she looked. Maybe a little worried, maybe intrigued, since I'd garnered so much news in the lobby.
"I never knew how useful I'd find it, having a human servant," she said to Andre. "Other humans will say anything around her, and even the Britlingen spoke freely."
Andre was perhaps a tad jealous if the look on his face was any indication.
"On the other hand, I can't do a damn thing about any of this," I said. "I can just tell you what I heard, and it's hardly classified information."
"Where did Kentucky get the money?" Andre said.
The queen shook her head, as if to say she hadn't a clue and really didn't care that much. "Did you see Jennifer Cater?" she asked me.
"Yes, ma'am."
"What did she say?" asked Andre.
"She said she'd drink my blood, and she'd see you staked and exposed on the hotel roof."
There was a moment of utter silence.
Then Sophie-Anne said, "Stupid Jennifer. What's that phrase Chester used to use? She's getting too big for her britches. What to do...? I wonder if she would accept a messenger from me?"
She and Andre looked at each other steadily, and I decided they were doing a little telepathic communication of their own.